


Crush

by winwinism



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Universe, Hook-Up, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29327982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winwinism/pseuds/winwinism
Summary: Atsumu fails at not sleeping with his new teammate.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 12
Kudos: 198
Collections: AtsuHina Fever Week 2021





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [AtsuHina Fever Week](https://twitter.com/atshnfeverweek), Day 1: First Time.

The day Shouyou signed to the MSBY Black Jackals, Osamu called to congratulate Atsumu on his new teammate--another familiar addition to the roster, fresh off a two-year stint in Brazil doing god knows what, very exciting--though congratulations weren’t the only thing on his mind. “By the way, totally unrelated, but I just thought I should remind you it’s a _kind of a bad idea_ to sleep with your coworkers.”

“Is it, Samu? Funny you should mention that. And whatever might I have done to provoke such a reminder?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Just that, maybe, it’s come to my attention that someone you’ve been nursing a crush on for _five years_ is joining your full-time professional volleyball team.”

“I haven’t been _nursing a crush on_ \--that was high school! I was hormonal, give me a break. I’m over it. I don’t even know the guy.”

“I don’t want to hear about your hormones,” Osamu said. “And if you do sleep with him, I don’t want to hear about that, either. I’ve done my brotherly duty.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything!” 

And Atsumu wouldn’t have slept with him, wasn’t planning on it at all, if it weren’t for the fact that three months after that day brought him here, celebrating a win with the Black Jackals at a decently fashionable club in downtown Osaka, and watching a slightly tipsy Sakusa Kiyoomi _flirt_ with Hinata Shouyou like Kiyoomi was a starving man and Shouyou was a platter of freshly barbecued meats. 

It was terrifying. Kiyoomi was making a shocking, slutty spectacle of himself, three buttons of his black top undone, running his hands through his frizzy hair and looking at Shouyou from beneath lowered lids like a goddamn predator, and Shouyou just _sat there_ and let it happen. He was _laughing_ , like Kiyoomi’s ever said anything funny in his entire life, and smiling all bright-eyed and eager at whatever his fellow spiker had to say. Atsumu’s fingers tightened around his whiskey. He was genuinely scared for Shouyou, the poor man. Moreover, he was scared for himself. He knew Kiyoomi was gay, which was nice, or would’ve been, if Kiyoomi were anything other than the most unpleasant personality Atsumu had ever had the displeasure to play volleyball with; if it weren’t for that, he and Atsumu might’ve hooked up, if it also weren’t for Kiyoomi being a strict top into things like _rope bondage_ and _discipline_ and other unspeakable horrors. 

Atsumu couldn’t take it. Kiyoomi probably had a _Fifty Shades of Grey_ -style velvet _playroom_ in his fancy downtown flat, the rich, kinky bastard that he was, and Shouyou--the human manifestation of sunshine, of everything good and pure and hopeful in this world--didn’t deserve that. More selfishly, Atsumu didn’t think he could go on if he knew _two_ of his teammates were into that sort of thing. 

It was with these noble thoughts in mind that Atsumu knocked back the last of his drink and marched over, assuming a look he hoped was stern as he caught the attention first of Kiyoomi, then of Shouyou. At the second, he melted into a smile. 

“Hey, Shou-kun.” _How did_ Hinata _become_ Shou-kun _in three months?_ Funny you should ask. “I’m gonna go dance for a bit, care to join me? I get a lil’ self-conscious if I’m out there by myself.”

Shouyou opened his mouth, eyes glittering, but Kiyoomi, the asshole, cut off whatever beatific words of acceptance were surely on Shouyou’s lips with a curt, “Kind of you to interrupt, but we’re in the middle of a conversation.”

“Oh, I--” Shouyou looked between them. Atsumu bit his lip, then consciously intensified the wattage of his grin. _Fuck_ , maybe he should’ve undone a few buttons himself. “I haven’t danced all night, but I’ve been wanting to.” He gave Kiyoomi’s shoulder a friendly smack, and Atsumu _loathed_ Kiyoomi for it. “You can come, too, Sakusa-san!” 

Luckily, Kiyoomi took one look at the packed dance floor and curled his lip with disgust. “I’ll pass.” 

“Oh, alright. I’ll be back later, though!”

 _Not if I have anything to say about it_. Atsumu took Shouyou by the arm and pulled him along, heading straight into the throng of bodies grinding and bopping mindlessly to the shitty club mix that blared overhead. The air was thick with perfume and body odor, and the density of the crowd drew them closer, such that Atsumu caught Shouyou’s chin with his shoulder when he turned around. “Fuck, sorry.”

Shouyou smiled sheepishly and looked up at him. Atsumu liked that, that he had to look up. “Are you really self-conscious about dancing?”

“Not really. Just an excuse to get you out here.”

“Wow.” Shouyou started to move his shoulders to the rhythm and sway his head a little, though he didn’t let his gaze waver an inch. His eyes were big and intense, but not threatening. It was just a lot, having the full force of his attention on you. Weirdly moving--though maybe that was just Atsumu, and maybe Osamu was right, but that wasn’t anyone’s business but his own, now, was it? “Well, I was looking for an excuse to dance, too, so guess it works out.” 

“You could’ve just told him you wanted to.”

“Yeah, but I would’ve felt bad about leaving him alone. I know Sakusa-san doesn’t like crowds.”

“He likes you,” Atsumu blurted, and instantly regretted it at the furrow that flitted through Shouyou’s brow. “Well, kinda. I dunno how much. But he was hitting on you. Hard.” 

“Really?” More than upset, Shouyou looked mildly confused. “I thought he just looked like that because he was tired.”

“Nah, that’s him trying to get laid, and _don’t_ ask me how I know.”

“How do--oh.” There was a twist to Shouyou’s mouth like he was trying not to laugh, or like he was being coy. “Honestly, I don’t think I mind that.”

“You would.” Atsumu sent up a pre-emptive prayer for forgiveness for his indiscretion, and added, “He’s into freaky shit. Like, strictly into freaky shit.” 

“Like?”

“Like tying people up and hitting them with, like, special sex tools.”

Shouyou’s mouth popped open, and his eyes curved. “Oh my goodness.”

“What, you think it’s funny? I’m not joking. He’s a chatty drunk, that’s all I’m gonna say. You would’ve found out anyway, if you’d let him take you home.”

“Oh, but that sounds so interesting,” Shouyou enthused, the curve to his pink lips betraying his amusement. “I--honestly, I’ve always wanted to try--”

Atsumu groaned, and Shouyou trailed off into a giggle. “Please. You don’t fuck around with that shit. Not _you_.” 

“Why _not me?_ And how do you know so much, anyway, have you done it with him?”

Atsumu shook off a shiver and broke Shouyou’s gaze. “God, no.” 

Shouyou was silent for a moment, and Atsumu grew impatient enough that he stole another glance, and found himself immediately entranced by the way Shouyou was chewing his lip. “You seem awfully concerned on my behalf.” 

“I look out for my spikers, what can I say?”

“And I love that,” Shouyou said, the sheer honesty behind it making Atsumu’s heart clench; and as if that wasn’t enough, he took the opportunity of the moment to slide his hands over Atsumu’s shoulders, hooking pinkies behind his neck. “Did _you_ want to be the one hitting on me instead?” 

_Now or never, then_. “I, well--yeah, kinda,” Atsumu admitted. “Do you mind that?”

“No,” Shouyou said. “I don’t.” 

The way they were dancing--swaying in place, more like--had brought them close enough to make Atsumu’s pulse judder, close enough that it was giving Atsumu ideas about threading his fingers through Shouyou’s thick, sunset-red hair and shoving his face into his neck. Shouyou’s warm, full lips would feel good on his skin, but they’d barely scratch the itch that’d been building all night. Shouyou had his elbows over the bridge of Atsumu’s shoulders, sinking some of his weight into Atsumu’s bones. Atsumu wanted more of it, all of it. Shouyou tilted his face up at Atsumu: square-jawed but boyishly plush, smattered with freckles, the cute curve of his nose enough to send Atsumu into a downward spiral at sixteen. At twenty-two, Atsumu was a little more put-together than that. He still liked him, though. 

Atsumu kissed him in the middle of the dance floor, and surrounded by dozens of people that could’ve seen; but it was so crowded that, likely, nobody did. 

Atsumu moped for a full day when he caught wind that Shouyou was headed for Brazil after high school. He was a monstrous bitch during practice, even more so than usual-- _ugh, hormones_ \--and humiliatingly, Osamu called him out on it without even having to ask. “You know he’s not good enough for pros. You _know_ that.” 

“Yes, I fucking know that, and my brain doesn’t fucking care, so can you fuck off?”

Osamu thwacked him in the head with a volleyball and told him to stop swearing in front of the first years. Because they were watching, of course they were, and while they were expressly forbidden from whipping out their phones outside of designated photo-op periods, Atsumu knew they were memorizing every word. 

“I never asked to be a fucking celebrity!”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, you whore!” Rintarou called. Atsumu hissed at him, but let it go. Being a celebrity was one thing. Being a role model was worse. 

Anyway, at seventeen, Atsumu had it bad. 

At twenty-two, Atsumu wouldn’t _say_ he had a crush. But maybe he had one anyway, a tender sliver of a thing buried in some long-forgotten corner of his shrivelled, blackened heart. Shouyou beaming at him as they stumbled into Atsumu’s apartment made Atsumu feel like a houseplant that’d gone too long without water, and like Shouyou was a whole damn faucet. A waterfall, even. Lots of water. Shit, he was gonna make Atsumu wet. 

Shouyou pressed him against the door as soon as it clicked shut and kissed him hungrily, biting at his lips and getting his hands under Atsumu’s shirt in seconds. “Wow, eager.”

“You’re so sexy,” Shouyou confessed, giddily earnest. “I can’t believe I get to fuck you. No, you’re gonna fuck me, right?”

Atsumu thrilled up to his ears. “Yeah, if that’s cool with--yeah, let’s do that.”

“Do you bottom? I’m just curious.”

He shrugged, as much as he could with Shouyou’s eager weight pinning him to the door. “Tried it a couple times, don’t really like it.”

“Oh,” Shouyou breathed. “Oh, well, it’s hot that you tried it, but I’m sorry you didn’t like it.” 

“Don’t be sorry, what?” Atsumu kissed him, sucking on his full lower lip and dragging his hands up Shouyou’s sides. Fucking hell, he was so firm and _sturdy_ , built like stone; if he went on top, he might flatten Atsumu straight out. “That’s life. You try shit and find out what works.”

“Right?” Shouyou wriggled beneath Atsumu’s touch, huffing into Atsumu’s neck as their hips ground together, hard and slow. Atsumu felt the outline of Shouyou’s cock and swore under his breath. “I found out I liked sucking cock two months after I went to Rio. Can I suck yours? I wanna, I’ve been wanting to.” 

Atsumu’s mind spun, tripped over itself at each word. _Cock_ in that voice sounded like ten teenage wet dreams. But when Shouyou went for Atsumu’s belt, Atsumu stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “No. Maybe later. I’ll do you first.”

Shouyou’s looked up at him through feathery eyelashes, his lips glossy in the light, and _damn_ if Atsumu didn’t want to fuck his mouth until he forgot his own name. 

“I wanna take care of you,” he added in a low murmur, flushing at the intimacy of it. Shouyou’s eyes went wide. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Shouyou looked good pressed into the dark blue of Atsumu’s bedspread. Atsumu could get used to it. Shouyou wound his fingers in Atsumu’s hair and pulled at the gelled-up locks of it as Atsumu crawled over him, straddling Shouyou’s thighs. They made out like this for a few minutes, or an hour--Atsumu could’ve been fooled either way. His cock twitched, and he ground their hips together, pulled away to watch Shouyou’s eyelids flutter. “You’re sensitive.” Shouyou gave a jerky little nod. That’d fuel his fantasies for a while. 

Working quickly, he unbuttoned Shouyou’s shirt and kissed down his thick, corded neck, the cut of his collarbones across his chest. He lingered whenever Shouyou’s breath hitched, and the rise and fall of his chest quickened. Shouyou’s fingers found his hair. Ruining the fuck out of the evening’s carefully styled look, probably, but it would have to do. Atsumu flicked one nipple while he sucked on the other, looking up at Shouyou with a wry curve to the corners of his lips. Shouyou’s fingers only tightened, holding him down. 

“Tell me what you like.” 

“Teeth,” Shouyou answered immediately, like it’d been on the tip of his tongue already. “Not on my dick, though.” 

Atsumu raised an eyebrow. The sound Shouyou made when Atsumu bit around his nipple, sinking in his fangs and pulling like he wanted it to hurt, was music to his ears. 

“But you’re so good,” Shouyou huffed. “I’ll like anything you do to me.” 

Atsumu was dying. He sat back on his heels and ground his palm over the tent Shouyou was pitching in his boxers--they’d lost their pants on the way--and felt a twinge of satisfaction at Shouyou’s answering moan. “Be careful with that.”

“What?” 

“You shouldn’t be so quick to praise. You might make me think I don’t have to work for it.” 

“Oh, but you will,” Shouyou said, lips curving. He spread his thighs, inviting Atsumu in, and hell if Atsumu wasn’t going to go where he was wanted. 

He pressed one thigh into his face and smooched along the sensitive, fleshy inner part, getting his teeth out and nipping at the finely-haired skin. Shouyou thumbed circles into Atsumu’s scalp, like he was _soothing_ him, or something. He shivered and inhaled Shouyou’s scent, so warm and vibrant with nothing else to cloud it but his own. 

“You can mark me up a little,” Shouyou said. “Or a lot. I like that. I want people to look.”

 _People? You mean the team?_ Shouyou was a _freak_. Atsumu flicked his eyes up. “A little, or a lot?” 

“A lot.” Shouyou gasped when Atsumu nipped him next; he was harsh, testing how far he could go, but Shouyou only shivered and egged him on with a hard press of fingers. “I like--I get off on bruises. I’ll press down on them and that’ll be how I jerk off for a week.”

“Oh, fuck,” Atsumu groaned. He pressed his forehead into one muscular thigh for a moment, gathering himself. “You can’t be serious.”

“Eh? I am, though.” Atsumu busied himself sucking a hickey into Shouyou’s thigh, trying not to lose it at the thought of Shouyou, _Shouyou_ , digging his freaky little fingers into this spot as he worked a hand over his cock. “What’re you into? Probably--” He made a noise like a hiccup that melted into a soft moan. “--something super _lame_ and _boring_ , like being told you’re _good_.” 

Atsumu flashed his eyes up at Shouyou’s. He licked his lips, with half a mind to prepare some retort, but instead he just stared into Shouyou’s smug, smirking face and reddened. 

“What? That’s so cute, though. Because you are good.” 

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “Lame and boring and _cute_.” Exactly how he wanted to come across to a hookup. Or a crush. 

“No, I was kidding. Miya-san. Look at me.”

Atsumu did. “You can call me Atsumu while we do this, you know.”

“Atsumu. You’re so good.”

Little Atsumu, the traitor, stiffened at the very syllable. He growled, pressed Shouyou’s thighs together so he could work off his boxers, freeing his cock for the first time. It curved up towards Shouyou’s belly, dripping precum on the stripe of auburn curls that stretched down his hard stomach. Atsumu felt like he was drooling, wiped at his mouth to make sure he wasn’t. He scooched back, sank onto his belly and elbows, staring at it. 

“Wait,” he said. “Toss me the lube, I wanna finger you while I do it.” 

“O-oh.” It landed next to Atsumu’s head a second later. Atsumu wet two fingers with a generous drizzle of the stuff and, nudging Shouyou’s thighs further apart, ran them down his perineum. Shouyou’s shaky exhale was exquisite. 

He took the plump head of Shouyou’s cock into his mouth as he eased a knuckle past the tight, pink ring of muscle, and sighed to himself at the searing heat on his palate, around his finger. Atsumu took him deeper, working Shouyou open slowly. Shouyou filled his mouth so nicely. It’d been a while since he’d done this. Too long. Shouyou grew harder on his tongue, thicker, stretching Atsumu’s lips to their limit. Atsumu closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, swallowing, nose and palate flooded with Shouyou’s musk, the sharp tang of his arousal. Shouyou combed through Atsumu’s hair and _purred_.

“ _Nnnnn_ , you feel so good.” Atsumu glared up at him, as sharply as he could with a cock in his mouth, and felt a jolt at the way Shouyou stared back, lower lip held between his teeth. “I’d never just say it, you know.”

Atsumu hummed, forgetting Shouyou would feel it. Shouyou’s back arched a little, unconsciously, perhaps, shoving his cock deeper into Atsumu’s throat. Atsumu’s eyes blew wide at the sensation. _Fuck_ , he liked that. His cock thumped in his briefs, painfully hard. He wanted Shouyou’s touch, his permission, a reward--Shouyou was so tight around his finger, even just the one, Atsumu couldn’t imagine how it’d feel to bury himself inside--but he hadn’t earned it, not yet. He lost himself in the task of bringing Shouyou pleasure, easing his finger in deeper, then adding another at Shouyou’s encouragement. He pulled off for a moment, overtaken by curiosity. “You do this to yourself a lot?”

“Sometimes,” Shouyou admitted breathily. “Let other people do it, too.” 

“How do you usually do it?” Atsumu asked, instead of entertaining the jealousy that surged in his throat. He had no right. He had no claim on Shouyou, except that he was his _setter_ , and he _knew_ down to his very bones that no one would treat him better, make him feel as good, give him what he deserved as freely as Atsumu was prepared to and would. 

“Um,” Shouyou said. “I dunno, I like-- _ack!_ ” Atsumu’s fingers found his prostate, and he brushed against it with light, teasing touches that made Shouyou tense and shudder and sigh.

“What’s that?”

“Missionary, I guess?” Shouyou said, his voice climbing even higher than usual. “I like. Eye contact.”

“Aw, you’re such a romantic,” Atsumu cooed.

“Shut up, so what if I am?” 

“You’re cute,” Atsumu said simply, returning to Shouyou’s needy cock. He licked a wet stripe up the underside, collecting precum on his palate and letting his tongue loll out as he reached the tip, showing Shouyou how dirty he was, what he’d do for him. He swallowed. “Wanna cum now or on my dick?”

Likewise, Shouyou’s throat bobbed. “Want you in me,” he said. Atsumu couldn’t agree more. 

He sat up, stripped off his briefs. Emboldened by Shouyou’s hungry gaze into showing off, he flexed a little as he worked the precum that’d collected at the tip over his cock, and he tore open the proferred condom with his teeth. It took two tries, but he nailed it, because Atsumu was a smooth motherfucker when he wanted to be. Shouyou drew his knees up, eyes glued between Atsumu’s legs. 

“ _Shit_ , you’re big.” 

Atsumu bit back a smirk as he rolled the condom over his dick. “Hope it’s not too much.”

“God, no. Want you, c’mon, hurry--” Shouyou hooked his legs around Atsumu’s waist, dragging him closer. Atsumu huffed. 

“You sure you’re ready?” He palmed Shouyou’s right knee and bent it back, spreading Shouyou lewdly, and kissed his calf. “Don’t tell me you like it when it hurts.”

“A little. I can take it.” 

“How are you real,” Atsumu muttered. Shouyou’s hole fluttered invitingly at the first press of Atsumu’s dick, the heat of it palpable. Shouyou’s chest heaved, and his brown eyes shone like they were wet. Atsumu stared into their depths as he thrust inside, bottoming out in one swift stroke. 

“ _Fuck_.” 

“Good?”

“ _Fuck_ , Atsu, _Atsu_ , you feel--” Shouyou threw a forearm over his eyes, and Atsumu paused, sure that Shouyou needed time to adjust. “-- _incredible_ , c’mon, fuck me--”

Atsumu felt it like a jolt to the base of his spine, the impact radiating until his fingertips tingled. Jaw flexing, he fucked into him again, and again, slow and deep, bending Shouyou in half as much as he dared, fixated on Shouyou’s every reaction even as his skin buzzed and his cock protested, _begged_ him to fuck Shouyou wildly and inconsiderately until Atsumu jizzed a whole five years of repressed attraction out of him. His hindbrain was lying to him--once wouldn’t do it, that much he knew. And he was a man of more than animal lust. 

If Shouyou broke off into wordless moans, he had to ask. “Is it good for you? Tell me, everything, lemme hear it--”

“ _Yes_ , yes, you’re so good, oh my god, I love your cock, wait-- _oh my god right there_ \--”

“There, huh?” Atsumu egged him on, breathless, and got himself real comfortable with the angle, timing a sharp, powerful thrust with a bite to the inside of Shouyou’s thigh and revelling in Shouyou’s immediately gasped _hah!_ of pleasure. Shouyou sounded nothing like Atsumu had imagined; and he had imagined, because while Atsumu _was_ popular--a celebrity, even--that didn’t mean Atsumu would fuck just anybody, and he had his lonely nights, too. The photos Shouyou posted to his Instagram, shirtless or otherwise, were fuel enough. But Shouyou in the flesh was a different beast entirely, and Atsumu was _living_ for it. 

“You’re too gentle with your hands, don’t be, make me bruise.” Atsumu obeyed. He sank his fingers in to that hard, carved flesh until it hurt _him_. “Want your mouth again later. Looked so pretty down there, you’re so sweet. Oh my god, I’m gonna--” 

Atsumu batted Shouyou’s hand away and fisted Shouyou’s dripping cock, matching each thrust with a twist of his rough palm, and Shouyou writhed, touching himself where Atsumu couldn’t: his chest, his neck, all over his flushed, panting face. If only Atsumu had a dozen hands. He’d be the best setter who ever lived. “Close?” he asked. Begged. He couldn’t last. Shouyou whined his assent, and Atsumu groaned, felt his balls pulling tight already. But he held on, enough to squeeze Shouyou’s release out of him, feel him clench vise-like around Atsumu’s dick while he spurted all over his toned stomach and chest, getting cum on his fucking tits, moaning like a pornstar with his head thrown back into the pillow. 

Atsumu made sure he fucked every last drop out of Shouyou before letting himself have it; but the second he let his control lapse, the orgasm was all but ripped out of him, vision whiting out for a blazing second as he came buried deep in Shouyou’s ass. Shouyou whined and clenched like he wanted to milk every last drop. And he did. 

Atsumu lurched forward, gasping, and let his partner’s body sag to the bed as he pulled out of Shouyou’s wet, oversensitive ass. Shouyou, too, was breathing hard. Atsumu dropped onto his forearms, chest to cum-covered chest, and kissed him open-mouthed, tongue-first. 

“Too heavy,” Shouyou muttered against his lips. Atsumu’s lips twitched.

“Says your heavy ass.”

“Shh. Get off me.” 

Atsumu rolled to the side and pulled off the condom. His bedroom smelled of sex. Oddly, it’d been a while since it had. A couple months, even. “Okay, done.” 

“C’mere. I didn’t say to stop kissing me.” 

Atsumu let his head loll to the side. Shouyou was already reaching for him, and Atsumu closed his eyes and let it happen. 

As they made out, Atsumu entertained the idea that he might _confess_ , whatever that meant, or that he might introduce the possibility of doing this again, as--well, what were they? What could they be? Teammates with benefits? Sexy friends? _Boyfriends?_ Should Atsumu ask him on a date? But Shouyou’s lips were warm and sweet, reminiscent of the sticky, sugary drink he’d no doubt had earlier that night, and Atsumu was too drunk on them to spare the thought the issue demanded. Later, when they showered together, Shouyou swallowed Atsumu to the root and looked up at him so serenely that Atsumu felt guilty he’d ever wanted anything more. 

But if Shouyou asked him if he could stay over, and if the next morning, on a bellyful of Atsumu’s home-cooked eggs, he shyly wondered if Atsumu would ever, like, _wanna do this again_ \--well, Atsumu wasn’t about to say no. 

Come Monday, Shouyou’s marbled-up thighs attracted startlingly little attention in the locker room. It was _Atsumu_ to whom Bokuto Koutarou immediately flew, wings flapping, the moment Atsumu pulled off his shirt. “Ooh, Tsum-Tsum, looks like _someone_ got lucky this weekend, didn’t cha?” 

“You jealous, Bokkun?” 

Atsumu made a point to confront Kiyoomi before they went out for training: he trotted up to him, ignoring the way Kiyoomi flinched at having his locker room routine so _rudely_ interrupted, and pulled down the neck of his shirt to jab a finger at the big, ugly bruise on his collarbone. 

“Your fault, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” Kiyoomi sniffed, and lowered his mask to let Atsumu see the disdainful wrinkle to his nose. “You can have him.” 

Whatever else had been on Atsumu’s tongue, it vanished at _have him_. Atsumu answered with a haughty sniff of his own. “Didn’t ask for your permission, but thanks.”

“Clearly. Good luck.”

Coming from Kiyoomi, it was strangely sincere. Atsumu was touched. Luck, he thought, as he sought out Shouyou’s firey head of hair, was something he’d be needing.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/winwinism).


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